by Holly Ryan
“You need my help.”
“So help.” He waved his hands in the air and then climbed back into his car. “The spell on the mausoleum seems to be weakening since the door won’t close. Find out why.”
“No, you don’t seem to get it. He’s after me.” I rammed the tip of Night’s Fall into his hood, and it sliced through the metal like it was warmed pie. “I need my power back, goddamn it!”
He started his car and shoved it into gear, but I would be damned if I moved from this spot without making him give back what he stole.
Which was why, apparently, he’d shifted into reverse. Bastard. Tires screeched as he started to peel away, and I was forced to pry Night’s Fall loose or else he’d steal that too. He maneuvered the car to the side of the road so he could turn around.
And also to shout out his open window, “Come by the station tomorrow.”
Rage boiled my blood as I glared after his fading taillights. Tomorrow. What about tonight? How dare he take part of my identity and then schedule its retrieval. This wasn’t a dog pound. My slayer power was mine. I might resent it at times, hate it even, but it had become a part of me over the last eleven years. It had seeped underneath my skin, pressed between my ribs, and wound around my entire being like a noose bound tight with purpose. Without it felt wrong. Empty. I was still the slayer without my power—so says me anyway—but the title and the magic went together. And minus my power, I didn’t stand a chance against Paul.
Maybe Detective Appelt was a misogynist piece of shit and was just threatened by me. No power for you, Belle Harrison, until I say so. You’re just a woman. The man has this all under control.
“Yeah, well, sorry about your penis, I guess,” I growled at the empty street.
Only it wasn’t so empty.
Eddie stood at the edge of his lawn, a cold breeze tumbling his messy blond hair over his glasses. He held his fists by his side, his lethal red gaze aimed down the street to where the detective had disappeared. Fury rolled out of him, so much so that it hesitated my steps.
“I heard him yelling at you,” he said without looking at me, his voice edged with violence. His fangs shimmered in the moonlight. “I could really go for some detective blood right about now.”
“Slow your roll there, Eddie. I need him alive.” I crossed in front of him so he’d look at me instead of a murderous possibility.
His expression instantly softened, the angry red in his eyes fading to a vibrant ochre. His fangs retracted, slowly, as if in case the detective returned. “No one deserves to be yelled at, least of all you.”
A painful lump pulled at my throat hard enough to sting the backs of my eyes. Yelling likely wasn’t Eddie’s favorite thing because of his horrendous home life when he was still human, about seventy years ago, give or take. He and his siblings had suffered unimaginably at the hands of his parents, so much that even Jacek, held prisoner and tortured for hundreds of years, had described Eddie’s life as “hell on earth.”
“It’s fine,” I said.
“It’s not.”
“But it will be.” Somehow. I couldn’t bear to think otherwise. That felt too much like giving up. “I still have to patrol, but I’ll fill you in later, okay?”
He nodded, his protectiveness sweeping over me even as I turned toward the cemetery.
A new lock adorned the iron gate, and once again, I smashed it to pieces with the stake from my bun. Night’s Fall was too pretty to smash things with, but I would certainly cut a bitch if I needed to with it. Plus, it was too heavy to swing if I didn’t have to when my body’s muscle mass could fit into the hole of a Krispy Crème donut. I really needed my slayer strength back. I also needed to not think about donuts.
Inside the graveyard, all appeared quiet and still, but when I wound deeper through the statues and headstones on the familiar rocky path, a low creak scraped a shiver across my shoulders. I stopped and zeroed in on the sound. What a surprise. It was coming from the Appelt mausoleum tucked away near the back. The stone door stood wide open.
My body went rigid. I gripped Night’s Fall and my stake even tighter. It wasn’t Paul. Detective Appelt had said he couldn’t come inside the mausoleum, and I was pretty sure Paul needed to refuel after strolling through the entire town to get Podunk City’s residents to kill me. So maybe I would finally come face to face with whoever—or whatever—was helping him.
I started forward, my breaths shallow, my footsteps as feather light as I could make them. If someone were in there, I could try to reason with them, explain that Paul was shifty as fuck, and if that didn’t work, I would turn them into a pincushion until they saw the error of their ways. Something told me it was much too late for them to have a come-to-Belle’s-side moment, though.
Pitch black crowded the inside, a color I only associated with the inky shadows that dripped from Paul’s static-noised nightmare veil he liked to drop on me on occasion. Slowly, steadily, he really was creeping his way into the mausoleum by way of whatever was helping him. But why? What was it about that trapdoor?
A violent shudder shook down to my toes at the thought. I closed in on the open stone door, my heartbeat thrumming. My phone was in an evidence bag at the police station, so it would have to be just me and my shitty human eyeballs rolling around the inside of the mausoleum. Not literally rolling. Jesus, I creeped myself out sometimes.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust from night to almost nothingness, but then vague shapes appeared—the window on the far wall now taped up with a garbage bag, the steps leading down, and a stone coffin lying on top of them. Again. I couldn’t blame Mr. Appelt for wanting to get out of here, whether he was dead or...dead. He was most definitely dead. But it was freezing in here, probably twenty degrees colder than the late fall night pebbling goose bumps up my back. And it felt...bad. Heavy, too, just like the air did when Paul was near.
Some of this was a drastic change from just last night when I’d spent the night in here, not-so-comfortably in Mr. Appelt’s coffin with Ronick. But some of it hadn’t changed. The trapdoor was still shut. Hooray, hooray.
Despite all the changes, the mausoleum stood empty, save for Mr. Appelt. A weird mix of relief and frustration settled into my gut. I loosened a breath and grabbed the edge of the door to pull it shut. It protested with a loud creak and smacked the corner of the stone coffin lying in the way. To hell with doors, forever and ever amen. Baring my teeth, I pushed my weight against the stone coffin until sweat popped out on my forehead. Gravity helped a little, and the coffin budged half a centimeter down the stairs. Enough for the door to close. Except it wouldn’t. I heaved and pulled, but all I did was make it groan.
It stood as a wide-open invitation to Paul.
Whenever he was ready.
I had a feeling that would be soon.
Chapter Two
After patrolling the cemetery and dispatching two vamps, all the while keeping an eye on the mausoleum, I trudged back home. My second home which was increasingly becoming my first home. Instead of heading toward the front door, I took the narrow sidewalk along the side of the house toward the back gate.
I found Eddie sitting all alone on the blue-tarped log pile along the side of the fence. His shoulders were stooped, his blond hair curtaining almost half his face as he flicked a lighter again and again. If he had been anyone else, I probably would’ve whipped out a smartass comment about fires and wood, but I sealed my lips shut. His whole family had died in a fire, and I couldn’t imagine what he must be seeing in the lighter’s flame.
“Jacek and Sawyer are inside the house,” he said, glancing up. The fire danced in his orange-yellow eyes, a breathtaking display.
“How’s Jacek?” I asked, looking to the woodshed. It was now dark and padlocked shut.
“He explained to Ronick all about Paul and you, and how we’re helping you.”
“And?”
“Ronick’s not giving you the power of Night’s Fall.”
I sighed, not at all surprised. �
�He wants Jacek dead first.”
Eddie nodded. “I think he’d also like to see you dead. He’s not happy being cooped up in there, and he doesn’t understand why we’re helping you, the slayer, when you smell like gut rot. His words, Sunshine, not mine.” He smiled. “Never mine.”
I chuckled in spite of myself. Gut rot? No wonder Ronick had said I needed to bathe. “Why do you suppose I smell different to him?”
“Vampires crave different things. Blood, sure, but in his case, all he wants is revenge. It’s a dark thing that cowers away from your light.”
My light. I’d never been complimented quite like that before. A smile fluttered across my lips. “And you three are good.”
“At our cores, yes. But we’re also horny.” A wicked glint ignited in his eyes. He jumped off the wood pile and stalked toward me, his fangs on full display. “Your smell, the feel of you, it drives me wild every second of every day.”
I backed up into the shadows at the side of the house, drawing him closer, away from the woodshed.
He ran his tongue along the underside of his fangs. “And it makes me bad.”
“Good,” I breathed and pressed myself against the side of the house. “Be bad, especially with me.”
He posted one hand above my head and leaned in, gliding his lips from my neck to my ear. “It’s torture when I’m not inside you.”
“Is it?” I was panting now, burning for his touch.
He nodded as he palmed my stomach. “When the other two are inside you, I stroke myself, always, imagining it’s me.”
“Every time?” Damn. That was hot. I’d seen him jack off before while I sat naked on the countertop in the bathroom stroking my other two vamps. The whole thing had been the sexiest, most erotic thing I’d ever done, and when Eddie had finished, he’d made me come harder than I ever had before with just two of his fingers. Thinking about that, about all of us together, pooled slick heat where Eddie’s hand was slowly sinking.
“Every time.” He thumbed the waistband of my jeans and then slid lower, lower, buzzing every nerve along the way and pulling them tight. Finally, his fingertips curled between my grinding thighs and squeezed my jeans against my wet pussy.
I moaned, staring into Eddie’s lustful eyes that were starting to burn red. My hips thrust forward involuntarily, begging his fingers to continue rubbing. He did, even harder, surely feeling my wetness through my jeans.
“You don’t have to jack off alone,” I said, breathless.
“No?” he asked, pressing up against my hip so I felt every inch of his hard cock.
I shook my head, unable to speak, because he’d worked me up so much, I was seconds away from exploding. “Eddie...”
“Yes?” With a smile, he trailed his hand from between my legs to the button on my jeans.
Groaning from the loss of sensation, I shrugged out of my jacket, too heated to even notice the November night air. “No more thinking about being inside me. Take what’s yours.”
While one of his hands worked my jeans zipper down, he caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger with the other. His fiery red gaze searched my face. “All of it?”
The way he was looking at me, so full of devotion and want, skipped my heartbeat. I smiled. “Every last bit.”
He bent to kiss me then, taking my words literally. His mouth consumed me, burnt me to ashes, and then roared my pulse into existence again. Just...whoa. He ridded me of the rest of my clothes, I ordered him to do the same, and then he was hiking my legs around his hips as he slowly, slowly sank into me.
He stretched me wide open, the perfect fit. I grasped for something to hang on to, knowing I would need it to stay on this level of existence.
He groaned, all the way inside me now, and read my hesitation like it was his own. “Do it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Just my head.”
“I promise.” With slow movements, I touched my fingertips to his temples, my touch strong enough to anchor me, but hopefully light enough that it didn’t freak him out. He had a thing about people touching him.
He began to move inside me then, the force of his thrusts scraping my back against the side of the house, but I didn’t care. I loved how our bodies fit together, how his cool skin pressed against mine. He and the chilly night combined peppered my arms with goose bumps and tightened my nipples into hard buds, made even harder as they rubbed against his chest.
His hips quickened and he groaned into my neck, his fangs raking across my skin and rolling a delicious tremor through me. My lips craved his, though, and since he’d granted me control of his head, I applied the gentlest pressure underneath my fingertips. He followed my lead and kissed me until I couldn’t see straight. His hair was like silk between my fingers, and I twined them through it and pulled, completely losing myself in everything Eddie.
He roughly pulled away from my kiss, staring me down through his sexy-as-fuck glasses, his thrusts never slowing.
I gazed at him through half-shuttered eyes. “Okay?”
“Harder,” he growled and then consumed my mouth again.
I knotted my fingers even tighter through his hair and yanked. He groaned and sped his hips until he was slamming me into the wall at my back. His hands squeezed my hips, hard enough that I’d for sure have bruises. Smiling, I kept at it, even dug my nails into his scalp so he’d fuck me harder. A low pulse throbbed between my legs, and I moaned into our kiss. Then, without even thinking, I bit down on Eddie’s lip. A drop of blood consumed my taste buds, gunning my orgasm with explosive force. He came, too, clamping his fangs down hard on my shoulder.
Still quivering, my bones like cooked noodles, Eddie gently set me on my feet while he licked his bite clean and soothed it with kisses.
“Did I hurt you?” I asked.
“No.” He touched his forehead to mine and smiled. “Quite the opposite since I think you’ve developed a taste for vampire blood.”
I WOKE EARLY THE NEXT morning. Scratch that. I hadn’t really slept, even after the hours Eddie had thoroughly explored my body with his. Twice outside and once after we’d collapsed on his bed. He was right—I craved a drink of vampire blood that drove me even more insane than I already was. Sexually at least. Mentally, too, if I were being honest. Sex with my three vamps blocked out everything else, but could anyone really blame me for trading real life for scorching hot fucking? I didn’t think so.
Besides, it wasn’t just fucking. Eddie, Jacek, and Sawyer were more important to me than that. A lot more.
Anyway, I was spent, but my mind crackled with all that needed to be done before Paul found his way into the mausoleum and through that trapdoor.
Downstairs in the kitchen, I helped myself to some coffee and some frozen buttermilk waffles before heading out. I wanted to catch Detective Appelt as soon as he walked in the door of the police station so he couldn’t avoid me.
Oh, but wait. I’d kind of broken out of jail. Could I just waltz back in and start making demands of one of the detectives? Probably not, but that wouldn’t keep me from trying. Maybe I could swarm him in the parking lot and no one would notice.
I walked quickly through the crisp fall morning since I also had part of a day shift at The Bean Dream and online college classes that I’d been neglecting. Squinting into the sunrise that ribboned the horizon, I searched out the mausoleum through the iron bars of the cemetery fence as I passed. The door still stood wide open. A chill penetrated through my leather jacket, and a sense of wrongness rippled around the squat stone structure the longer I looked. I sped my pace, balling my hands into my pockets to help contain my body heat.
Five blocks later, I let myself into my hoopty car parked outside my apartment, cranked the heater, and floored it to the police station. And then freaked the fuck out once I parked. I couldn’t just walk in there, pretend I hadn’t been arrested for murder, and then had decided that the cell life wasn’t for me. Hell, they’d shot me in the back while under Paul’s control. Did they even rem
ember that? My vamps sure did. Every horrible detail that had gunned them to end my life.
I glanced through the windshield at the tan brick building and then at the rearview mirror. What I needed was a disguise since the stake through my bun was a tad too “Here I Am!”. I slipped it loose and then exchanged my leather jacket for a wadded-up hooded sweatshirt in my back seat. Not great, but better. Hopefully it was enough to get me in and out because I had zero time to play cat and mouse with a meddling detective.
While stepping out of my car, I tucked myself as far into my hooded sweatshirt as I could and headed for the front entrance. Or what was left of it.
A giant hole had been plowed through the bricks next to the door. A collection of officers secured more tape to several trash bags to cover it, which seemed to be the universal solution to seal all holes in Podunk City. It wasn’t until I was through the door that I realized where that hole had likely come from. This was the exact same spot my vamps had come after me, their bodies warped and twisted, hateful words spewing from their lips in Paul’s ancient voice. I’d trapped them in this entryway with my Holy Bra, or rather the holy water inside it that I’d splashed everywhere. Surely that hole in the wall was how they’d gotten out of here.
“Can I help you?” a feminine voice called from my left.
From behind a window set into the wall, a blonde officer smiled, though it looked pained. A nasty cut sliced through her bottom lip. My stomach bottomed out at the sight, not because I’d hurt her, but because I’d been there when it happened. At least I thought this was the officer my guard, whom I doubted was really a guard, had punched in the face. I was a wee bit drugged by my handcuffs at the time.
If this wasn’t my life, I would sure sound like a crazy person right about now.
“Detective Appelt, please,” I said, adding an extra layer of huskiness to my voice.
“Is he expecting you?”
“Yes.” Most definitely.
“Name, please?”
My mouth popped open, but I snapped it shut again. Giving my real name could result in a very literal death sentence, though likely not at the hands of the law. I sank even farther into my hood. “Paul...” I had no idea what the human Paul’s last name was, so I just left it at that.